


Peach and Dapper

by multiplechoice_origin (SDTS)



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Batjokes, Facial, M/M, Masturbation, Smut, Violence, dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-10-24 05:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10734984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SDTS/pseuds/multiplechoice_origin
Summary: After a run in with the Joker, Bruce finds himself dwelling on the Clown Prince of Crime, although not in the way that he is used to.





	1. Chapter 1

 

                Bruce could hear the rain coming down in thick sheets against the roof. He winced and rubbed his shoulder. His entire body was sore from the way he had landed earlier. He should have been paying better attention. It had been his fault that the Joker had gotten away.

                For a brief second, the power flickered. It had been a long night. He should just try to sleep. Yet somehow Bruce knew that it would be difficult to sleep tonight. Any night involving the Joker had a way of keeping him awake, tossing and turning for a long time in bed, thinking about how he could have handled the situation differently.

                He decided he would shower; allow the hot water to pound some sense into him. Wandering into his bathroom, he shrugged himself out of his clothes and turned on the water. As he waited for the water to warm, he looked into the mirror. Alfred had tried to bandage him up but he had shrugged him off. He was fine, he had lied, and he didn’t need anything.

                Already, Bruce could see the bruising forming along his side from where he had landed. The explosion had knocked him three levels down. He was lucky he hadn’t struck his head. Even with his cowl, he could have ended with a concussion. He never would have heard the end of it from Alfred.

                Gingerly, he ran his fingers over the swelling and winced. He was going to feel it in the morning, especially when he was going to be spending it in meetings at Wayne Enterprises. He could still hear the Joker’s laugh ringing in his ears, Harley Quinn spinning around and shouting ‘boom!’ before the explosion happened. He had slipped up. Thought it had been the Joker when it had just been Harley pretending to be him. She didn’t seem to care if she had gotten caught up in the explosion with him. Not like that surprised Bruce. Even so, how had he fallen for such a basic gag? Harley pretending to the Joker to allow him to escape…he should have known.

                It had resulted in Harley’s arrest, yes, but the Joker was still out there. Even now, he was slinking around Gotham, regrouping for whatever terrible thing he had planned next.

                Bruce stepped into the shower. The water was hot and stung his wounds but he liked it. He didn’t mind the pain when it was mixed with the pleasure of the water beating against him. Running his fingers through his hair, he tried to forget what had happened. He didn’t want to think of the Joker anymore nor fixate on the fact that he had failed.

                But something was nagging on him, itching just underneath his skin. An idea that was taking root because he refused to entertain it. Bruce could picture the Joker from earlier tonight looking like a sort of twisted fairytale prince. His green hair had been messy and his suit, for once, had been a slightly out of character peach suit with dress shoes. He had been so used to seeing the Joker in only green and purple that it had thrown him a bit. Now, looking back at it, Bruce knew that the Joker had dressed differently to make the switch with Harley easier. Instead of one of his special suits, it was simpler to wear something like that.

                Even so, the image of the Joker in the suit flickered across Bruce’s brain. He had been tall and slender in the colour, wearing rings that had glinted in the moonlight and looking…almost dapper, to Bruce’s chagrin. The thought was insane, of course. There had still been the makeup smeared across his face: the white clown foundation and the dark red lipstick on his lips that had twisted into a sneering laugh when he had seen Bruce as Batman. It was still the Joker and yet…

                Yet Bruce found himself lingering on the image. As the water rolled across his skin, he could see when the Joker had landed a punch. Bruce should have blocked that. Why hadn’t he blocked it? Another flicker of something…this time something that hadn’t occurred at all – the Joker’s lips against his neck, dragging up his skin –

                Bruce flinched like he had been struck and shook his head. Taking a step backwards, his back pressed against the cold tile of the wall. Yet even though he was struggling against it, the images were splashing against his skull in vivid color. The Joker, shrugging off his suit jacket. Bruce’s fingers in his hair, yanking his head back to expose the pale flesh of his neck. Bringing his lips against his skin –

                Bruce shook his head, tightly closing his eyes. To his horror, he could feel himself growing hard at the thought of the slender Joker pressed against him, his hands curling around the back of his neck and bringing himself in for a kiss.

                Before he could stop himself, Bruce’s hand gripped his cock and began to stroke it. This was wrong. There had to be something _wrong_ with him. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He could envision it now: the Joker’s pale and long fingers curling around his cock, stroking him, making those strange sort of purring noises in his ear as he jerked Bruce off. He would be grinning the whole time, curled around him, still fully dressed. Bruce would feel the Joker’s cock straining against his dress pants but J wouldn’t move. He would be too focused on him, too focused on getting him to finish.

                Bruce let out a small groan as he stroked his cock faster. His breath caught as he imagined the Joker on his knees, leaving lipstick marks dragged across his dick as he sucked him. His fingers would curl around his green hair, letting J swirl his tongue around his cock. He would take all of him in his mouth; his lips would stretch around Bruce’s cock. J’s head bouncing up and down, the soft sucking noises filling the space as he worked on his meat. His dick would have J’s lipstick on it, the bright red standing out in the dim lighting as J stroked and looked up wickedly at him.

                Bruce leaned forward and stretched out, pressing the palm of his free hand against the shower wall as he furiously jerked himself off. He couldn’t stop now even if he wanted to. It was the damned suit. That stupid peach suit against his pale skin and his skinny frame. The sleeves had been too long, curling around the Joker’s wrists.

                J would take him back in his mouth now. His makeup would be messy. Lipstick rubbed off. The white face makeup smeared. Taking Bruce’s dick out of his mouth, he dragged the tip of his cock against his lips. Precum on his lips. He’d lick it off with his tongue and throw his head back and laugh. God, he would laugh endlessly at having Batman like this. Cracking him open in this manner, having him wanting to cum. Bruce would feel powerless. He would desperately need to finish; to feel J get him off.

                He kept pumping his cock, unable to stop picturing it. As his brain screamed at him that this was insane and all of it was wrong, he could feel his climax mounting. J’s hair wrapped around his fingers. His head bobbing up and down as he sucked him off. Precum beading on the tip of his dick which J would take pleasure in sucking off. Drool from how messy the blowjob would be. Bruce shuddered and then he was cumming.

                As he came, he could see J taking his load on his face. Bruce’s cum would cover him and J would laugh the entire time. He’d let Bruce cum on him, scoop it up with his fingers and make a show about licking it off. Bruce moaned, the mental image so vivid and his orgasm so intense that he had to focus on making sure he didn’t suddenly slip.

                With a gasp of breath, he opened his eyes. The shower wall came into focus as a sick feeling swept over him. What the hell was wrong with him? How could he think of such a thing, allow such a thing to make him cum like that? That had never happened before. It was the damned suit…peach and dapper…

                No, Bruce thought firmly, shoving the fantasy out of his mind. No. The Joker must have done something to him. Somewhere in the battle, the Joker must have infected him with something or done something to him mentally to affect him. What he just did…that wasn’t him. That wasn’t what he liked nor ever thought about.

                No, this was the Joker’s fault somehow. Resolutely, Bruce decided on one thing:

                He was going to find the Joker and figure out what he had done to him.

               


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce tracks down the Joker to figure out what he has done to him although things don't go according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: violence

 

                It had taken a week but Bruce had finally found him.

                Leaning slightly forward, he studied the building in which the Joker had made his hideout. The first one Bruce had found seemed more the Joker’s style: a toy store that had been burnt down a month ago on the outskirts of Gotham. At first, he believed it himself. It had felt convincing, with the Joker’s goons milling around and a comical grin spray painted over the happy child still on the sign over the wreckage.

                But then he saw the Joker’s double, strutting about clearly through the broken windows as if he owned the place. It would fool most people but not Bruce, not after the last run in with a double. He could tell by the walk and the way the double moved his arms that it wasn’t who he was really looking for.          

                So, where was the Joker hiding?

                The building in front of Bruce was an old theatre, closed down over a year ago when the owner cut and run. No one had purchased it and it had begun to fall apart. Posters from the last stage production were still stuck on the walls, peeling off from time and rain. The sign above the theatre was missing three letters. Windows were boarded up. It wasn’t a building anyone looked twice at; it had simply become part of the neighborhood – another desolate and pathetic building in the bad part of Gotham.

                Bruce had gotten somewhat lucky. At the same time he had discovered the double, one of the minions left. He tracked the car, which lead to the theatre. He felt confident the Joker was hidden inside after the man brought in a box of items and came out five minutes later, looking a bit shaken but still intact.

                Now he needed to figure out the approach and not get distracted.

                Normally, distractions weren’t an issue for him. His ability to stay focused, get the job accomplished and see through lies was what grounded him, kept him from losing himself to the madness 3he encountered nightly.

                But in the week since the…. incident…in the shower, Bruce found his thoughts scattered and sleep, never his friend, quickly becoming his enemy. Late at night, his mind would wander and he would have to fight the urge to touch himself, as he dwelled on indecent thoughts involving…

                He couldn’t even think it. It felt mortifying. Looking at the theatre, he strengthened his resolve. This wasn’t his fault. The Joker had done something to him; poisoned him with some sick sort of mind control device or something. It was the only thing to explain his current line of thinking – his hyper fixation on the Joker’s appearance, like his slender fingers and elegant long neck –

                Bruce forced himself to stop, focusing back on the theatre to search for a way inside. If he could help it, he didn’t want to go through the back way the minion had went, or storm through the front door. Using his batarang, he soared above the building and landed on the roof. It creaked and for a moment Bruce worried that it wouldn’t be able to hold his weight.

                Luckily, it didn’t crack, allowing Bruce to creep along the edge and stop over the grimy sun roof that once allowed light to pour into the lobby. He wasn’t picking anything up with his heat sensors and there appeared to be no movement although it was tricky to see inside.

                As he debated the best way to gain access, he heard something snap behind him. Whirling around, he raised his arm to deflect the shot –

                And was shoved backwards, hard enough and thrown off just enough, to go crashing through the sun roof. Bruce cursed for allowing himself to be distracted. He wasn’t like himself; normally someone sneaking up on him like that would never be possible.

                He landed hard on the floor of the lobby and rolled to his feet swiftly. Someone else leapt through the shattered glass ceiling, laughing raucously the entire time. Landing on their feet, Bruce realized who it was.

                “Joker.” He said gruffly, staring at the man who had been infiltrating his brain for the past week.

                “So predictable, Batsy!” He replied, letting out a high pitch laugh and leaning slightly forward, “Never can come through the front door – always trying to make an entrance!” His peals of laughter bounced off the walls.

                There was always something unsettling about facing the Joker, something dark and disgusting about even being near the man. It wasn’t just his ghoulish appearance with the smeared red lips or the horrible laughter. It was a corruption of his soul, the lack of a moral compass that bothered Bruce deeply.

                “You’re going back to Arkham.” Bruce replied but it only made the Joker laugh harder.

                “I waited for you, Batsy,” He trilled as the two walked in a circle, waiting for someone to strike first, “But I have to admit…it took you longer than I was expecting for you to find me! I thought you were supposed to be smart!”

                Bruce tried not to linger on the Joker, tried not to dwell on the manner in which he had been thinking of him this week. He was here to bring him to justice and fix whatever the Joker had done to him. The Joker kept walking although his eyes stayed focused on him. He was back to his regular purple and green suit, to Bruce’s relief. He didn’t want to see him in that peach one again. His hands were gloved, fingers long and slender and tapping against his chest whenever he spoke. Makeup glommed onto his face; the heinous bright red lips like a scar. The Joker – antsy and jittery like always. There was nothing different about him.

                So, why was his heart beating so quickly?

                “Not in the mood to chat?” The Joker asked, bouncing slightly on the heels of his dress shoes, “That has to be a mood killer on dates!”

                Bruce had enough and lunged. He gripped the Joker’s arm before he could duck although the Joker just chuckled loudly, throwing his head back as if he had heard the funniest joke of all. Bruce tightened his grip on the Joker’s wrist and yanked him forward.

                “What did you do to me?” He demanded, getting ready to strike him if he tried anything.

                The Joker blinked, his long lashes small dark smears against his white clown makeup, “Batsy, are you finally telling me a joke? Wait, don’t spoil it! I want to hear the punchline.”

                Bruce, quickly losing his patience, grabbed the collar of the Joker’s shirt and pulled him close, “Tell me what you did to me!”

                The Joker grinned, all teeth and wickedness, “What do you think I did to you?” His voice dropped an octave.

                “Mind serum, something in the blast,” He shook the Joker hard who rolled his head back, letting out a hiss of joy, “I want an antidote.”

                The Joker convulsed with laughter and put his hands on Bruce’s although he didn’t try to break free, “Batsy, this is the greatest gift of all! For once, I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

                Bruce tightened his grip on the Joker’s collar, fighting the urge not to punch him in the face. He didn’t feel in control of the situation; instead, he found himself grasping to keep his voice level when he replied, “The thoughts of you – I want the antidote. Whatever you struck me with…injected me with during the explosion. You’re curing me before you go to Arkham.”

                The Joker rolled his head forward and tilted his face slightly so that he was looking into Bruce’s eyes. His eyes normally were unreadable, fathomless and empty of all emotion.

                But this time there was a flicker, briefly, of something that Bruce couldn’t pinpoint as the Joker replied, “Thinking of me?” A second later, more laughter, “Why, Batsy, I’m honored! But I didn’t put anything in the explosion! No, it was just simple fun for us to experience together!”

                “You’re lying!” Bruce snapped, losing his temper and slamming the Joker against the nearest wall, pinning him.

                His face was close to the Joker’s now, close to the layers of makeup and the man he was supposed to detest, not think about in the dead of night. A lock of green hair had fallen in front of his eyes and before Bruce could stop himself, he curled his hands around the Joker’s neck and began to choke him.

                The Joker didn’t stop laughing the entire time even when his voice became hoarse and he couldn’t breathe. His slender fingers struggled to grab onto Bruce’s to try to pry them off but it didn’t work.

                Something in the back of Bruce’s mind was screaming at him to stop, that he was letting himself go crazy – and with all the self-control he could muster, he released his grip on the Joker who sunk to his knees gasping for air.

                “I want the antidote. What you did to me…to have me think of you in that –” He caught himself, “Give me the antidote before I turn you in.”

                The Joker, still on his knees, wheezed loudly and looked up at him. Bruce saw a flash of one of his fantasies – the Joker, taking him in his mouth, looking up at him as he left smears of makeup across his dick – and flinched in horror.

                “I didn’t give you anything,” He told Bruce, his voice low and gravely, hoarse from being choked, “If you’re thinking of me, Batsy, it’s because I’m in your head. I always knew you loved me,” He smiled brightly, “But to find out like this!”

                Bruce’s hands clenched as he resisted the urge of striking the Joker who had lowered his face. His mind raced. It couldn’t be true but if the Joker had truly poisoned him somehow, he wouldn’t deny it. He would own up to his prank, rub it in Bruce’s face. But he wasn’t; this entire time he claimed he had no idea what Bruce meant.

                _It isn’t possible,_ he thought with horror. He couldn’t really be thinking of the Joker in that way; it was disgusting and terrible. The Joker was the worst of humanity in one person. Why would he even think of him in that manner?

                Bruce, lost in his thoughts, realized only too late the Joker was pulling something out of his jacket pocket. He raised his hand to block the attack but a mist swarmed over him; something his cowl couldn’t filter out and was so fast acting that he stumbled backwards. Already dizzy, the Joker got to his feet and blurred in front of him.

                “That time I did something to you, Batsy,” He cooed, sounding overjoyed, “I had big, big plans for us tonight but given your recent admission, I’m going to tweak it _just a little_.”

                Bruce pitched forward and struck the floor of the lobby. As darkness swirled over him, his last thought was of his failings: how he had allowed himself to be manipulated, allowed his thoughts to distract him…and allowed himself to think of someone like the Joker in a manner that never should have crossed his mind.

                Then there was nothing but the echoes of the Joker’s laughter.

                 


End file.
